Memories
by TheGilbird
Summary: Everyone forgets eventually. So why can't America do the same? A 9/11 fanfic. Poem also inside. Rated T for swearing, blood, and touchy subjects. No pairings.


**Hello all,**

**First off, I'm sorry this is so late. I meant to get it posted sooner (earlier today) but then my computer went on the fritz. So sorry to anyone that was waiting.**

**Second off, if this is a touchy subject for you, then I suggest you hit the back button right now. I wasn't really aware of this when it happened (I was really little), but I do understand, and I know what it would feel like to lose someone like that. So this is your only and final warning.**

**There is also a small poem at the end of this, so if you don't understand Hetalia, then I suggest you just skip right to that. If you wish to understand, then basically it involves the countries of the world being presented as personifications built upon stereotypes. (In a nutshell. It's actually much more complicated than that.)**

**So, without further ado, here it is. Hope it doesn't suck:**

* * *

_Pain._

_That's all he felt. A blazing, white-hot flame, coursing through his veins, causing fiery pain and death wherever it struck._

_And the screams._

_They echoed through his mind, enough to drive a person mad, all of them begging for mercy, wondering just what they did to make god hate them so-_

America shot up from the bed, breathing deeply. Looking around quickly, he let out a sigh of relief when he found it was just a dream. _'More like a nightmare,'_ he thought. Eleven years, and he still couldn't forget. Eleven years, and he still remembered everything in such extraordinary detail.

Eleven years, and he was still cursed.

He didn't know why the other countries were making him host the meeting. They knew what today was... didn't they?

Alfred sighed. Well, you're job was more important than you're personal grieving, right?

...Well, maybe a visit to the memorial wouldn't be such a bad thing.

* * *

As he stood in front of the crashed remains of the World Trade Center, Alfred couldn't help but be overtaken by sadness. This was all that was left of the two-thousand, eight hundred nineteen people who had died here eleven years ago. All those people...

All those people... and their screams...

_There were thousands of them. burning into his mind as he crumpled to the ground, trying to get them out of his head. But alas, it was no use. There were to many to block out, too many to handle._

_Too many to count._

_The other countries were shouting in his ear, trying to figure out was going on, but he couldn't hear them. All he could hear were the screams._

_And the pain._

"-Gyah!" Alfred shouted as the memory passed. How could he remember those so well? Maybe it had something to do with being a country, he mussed.

Country...

Countries...

...The World Meeting. Which, by glancing at his watch, he realized he was almost late for.

Crap.

He started in full sprint toward the designated meeting place, completely ignoring the eyeballs, looks of shock, and full-out stares. he could care less. He had a meeting to go to for Christ's sake!

As he dashed up the sidewalk, finally grasping the building in his sight. But as he approached it, he started to slow down. Not out of exhaustion, but out of remembrance.

Another memory of that awful day...

No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't hide their secret...

_CRACK!_

_Another one of those bone-chrunching god-awful sounds._

_CRUNCH!_

_Literally._

_As each body hit the ground, Alfred couldn't help but flinch. They were so goddamn _loud_. Why did they have to be so loud, he thought._

_SMACK!_

_They were enough to drive a person mad. Hell, they were enough to drive a _country_ mad. And that's exactly what they were doing to America._

_To Alfred._

_He couldn't take it. He wanted it to end. All of it, let this madness stop, oh God, _make it stop_-!_

Those sidewalks would forever be painted with the blood of the victims, _his people_. No matter how well they were cleaned, they would never hide their secret...

...God, these memories were starting to make him philosophical.

They were starting to change him... He couldn't let the other countries see him like this, he had to hide this from them. For them.

For himself.

* * *

"Hey Canada, bro, how's it going?" America shouted to his twin from down the hall.

"Fine, Alfred, what about you?" Canada replied, "And do you always have to be so goddamn loud?"

At this, America let out a huge laugh. Faked, of course, who in their right mind would actually be laughing on a day like this? "What are you talking about? And yeah, I'm fine, why do you ask?"

"No reason..." Canada mumbled. His brother sure was acting strange today... Didn't he know the date?

"...Alright then. See you at the meeting!" Alfred called out to him as he rushed to the meeting. He didn't want to be late.

That was the other weird thing. America was _always_ late.

* * *

As he approached the double doors, America let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't expected to run into his brother back there. Oh well. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. He pushed open the doors.

"THE HERO HAS ARRIVED!"

* * *

As America came through the doors and made his famous big entrance, England couldn't hold back a sigh. Every single bloody time.

As the nation took his seat, England started to prepare his notes. He would be the first one up, America had insisted upon it during the last meeting a week ago.

Which was weird. Because he _always_ wanted to be the first one to go. _'He acts like its a bloody merry-go-round,'_ England thought.

America was smiling the whole time England was making his way up to the podium, but as soon as he was sure all eyes were on the elder nation, he let his façade drop. Jeez, this was harder than he thought.

On top of that, he was exhausted. He hadn't slept a wink the night before due to the memories. Oh well. Maybe he could catch up on a little bit of that here...

Little did he know, he was practically signing himself up for remembering one of his most frightening memories yet.

_The entire time he was laying on the ground, the only thing that played back in his mind were the planes._

_To him, they were terrifying. To even think about something like that happening was frightening. He never thought it would actually happen. And to have four of them was just..._

_Bone-chilling._

_Tons of fire exploded into the air the second they hit, and they burst into a huge fireball, lighting up the sky. Accompanied by the screams, the pain, and the sound of bodies hitting the pavement, it was the most frightening thing one could ever witness, let alone remember._

_That's why they were etched into his mind so perfectly. That's why the memory was so painful._

_That's why he couldn't forget._

Unbeknownst to him, America was sweating in his sleep. Not only that, but the pained expressions on his face and the slight whimpers he made told all other eight countries in the room that America was remembering what they'd hoped he wouldn't. Now they desperately tried to wake him up, to get him out of the nightmare that was his memories.

All of a sudden, his eyes shot open. Bloodshot and in fear, but nonetheless was to be expected. At first, it was relief to the other countries. Then he screamed.

When America woke up, he could still feel the pain. He could still hear the screams, he could still hear the bodies, but worst of all?

He could still see the planes.

So you could understand his gut-wrenching fear and his need to get out of there /fast/.

"...America? Are you all right?" Even the soft voice of England was enough to drive him over the edge right now.

"NO! NO! STOP!" America shouted whilst clutching his head. _'No no no no no no no no no please stop no stop please STOP IT RIGHT NOW!'_ He broke away from the chair - _just like the world trade center_ - and slid his back against the wall - _just like the pentagon_ - desperately trying to make it stop, stop, _please stop_-

_Just like the last plane._

All of the other countries were in shock. They knew he had bad memories of _that day_ eleven years ago, but... this was over the top.

England tried to approach first. "America, you just need to calm down. It's just a-"

"SHUT UP!" America shouted. It took England a minute to figure out he wasn't shouting at him. "...Shut up shut up shut up..." His voice was getting considerably weaker every time he said it, until it settled into weak sobs.

Canada was next to try. "Alfred, its not happening anymore. You just need to relax. Its all in the past." He tried to touch his shoulder, but America subconsciously flinched away. Canada sighed. It was like he was invisible again...

In truth, it wasn't that, nor was it the fact that Canada's voice was so soft. It was a combination of the fact that Canada's voice was so soft AND the fact that the screams and the bodies - _CRACK!_ - going through America's head were so loud.

He was getting worse, they could tell. His bloodshot eyes were now glazed over, his limbs were shaking, and he was still mumbling under his breath - "Please _please_ make it stop, I can't take it, oh God, _make it stop_ -. They didn't know what to do. It was like he was frozen in time, in the past.

The last place he wanted to be.

Then, the worst happened. He pulled out a gun.

England was first to react. He jumped, knocking the gun out of America's hands and in turn, knocking them both over. "What are you doing, you imbecile! You can't just bloody _kill_ yourself, you're a country, for God's sake! You can't just-!"

He was about to shout at him some more, but then he saw his eyes. Still glazed over and bloodshot, but now holding nothing but pure fear. He wasn't scared of anything he was seeing. He was scared of _England_. Then it hit him. America didn't know who had done it eleven years ago. And by pouncing on him he had probably done the worst thing he could've done for the _both_ of them.

Oops.

"STOP IT!" America was full-out freaking out by now, if he wasn't before. "Why'd you do it! Make it stop, England, make it stop!" He continued to cry under his breath, "Make it stop make it stop make it stop..."

"America..." England couldn't believe what he was seeing. The world superpower, reduced to something he had only seen once before.

Eleven years ago.

_He was covered in blood. That was England's first thought when he finally started to comprehend what was going on. Two parallel gashes, each about a foot long, right next to each other, running along the line of his gut, gushing out more and more of the red liquid._

_Then, another scream, louder than the first (if that was to believed), and another deep cut right over his heart joined the first two. If it was at all possible, they started to spill out even more blood._

_"America...!"_

_The rest of the countries were in a frenzy. France was surfing the television, trying to figure out what had happened (or was happening), China and Japan were desperately trying to find bandages (with no luck so far), Canada was holding on tightly to his brother, whispering soft nothings into his ear (even though he had no clue as to what had happened), Russia was... well, he was demanding into his phone that Lithuania 'had better tell me what was going on and how to treat the wounds on America or else there were going to be consequences...'. All the while Germany was trying to keep everyone from freaking out, with Italy hanging on his arm, whining and asking if everything was going to be alright And England..._

_As much as he wanted to help, he could only stand in stand in shock. America -_his former charge_- was on the floor, bleeding from where he could barly tell anymore, screaming bloody murder to 'Make it stop please make it STOP-!'._

_And the worst part was, he didn't even know what was happening. Only America knew. And by the looks of it, it wasn't anything good._

_Tenativlly, he reached out a hand to touch one of the three gashes - how he even knew where they were was a miracle on its own _so much **blood**_- only to have America immediately flinch and recoil, whimpering slightly. Based on his actions before hand, he was hurting a lot more than he looked. If that was believable._

_Then he opened his eyes. At that point, England was so worried about America that even that small movement was enough to bring relief, if an ever small amount, to him. "Ameri-!"_

_Then he noticed his eyes. They were bloodshot and glazed over. "...America?" No response. "America?!" Still no response._

_...Uh oh._

_He started to shake his shoulders, getting desperate. "America! Answer me, you git!" At this, America gave a small cry of pain, and squeezed his eyes shut. England stopped almost instantaneously, but America still had his eyes closed, shut tight._

_What had he **done**?_

_"Mon Dieu..." France said from across the room. Almost immediately, all eyes turned to him (minus America's), and then to the screen._

_And then he screamed..._

England shook his head, trying to clear the awful pictures from his head. He had to focus, now wasn't the time for memories. America was in pain, and he had to help him.

He still owed him, after all.

"America," he said as softly as he could, "It's over. It is all over. There's no reason to-"

"NO!" America interrupted him. Panting heavily, he started to back away. "No! You're all lying, you're all traitors!"

Well, _that_ stung a bit. "America... You just need to calm down-"

"How the hell am I supposed to _calm down_? Don't tell me what to do, you don't have the slightest clue as to what's happening!"

"America, we /do/ know what /did/ happen, and we weren't the ones to cause it."

"What do you mean _did_ happen? And you _don't_ have any idea what's going on, don't you dare say-"

"America!" England's shout broke the argument, causing America to almost jump back in surprise. "...Just look out the window."

"What do you mean, /look out the window/, what's so important that I-" It was at this moment that America looked out the window and saw what England was talking about. Or rather, /didn't/ see. "Th-They're gone... There's nothing there, they're just... gone..."

"They've _been_ gone, Alfred," England decided to try to break it to him gently. "It's just a memory. It's all over. Its all _been_ over."

This seemed to snap America out of it. His eyes finally cleared, but they still remained a greyer shade of what they had once been eleven years ago. Before he had been scarred.

He then looked at England with such a sadness, that he almost had to look away. Causiously, as though he would break, England slowly leaned forward, putting an arm on America's shoulder, giving a small smile. America stared at him for a few more seconds, then he finally broke down.

* * *

They all stood in front of it, in what used to be its glory. Now, it was a painful reminder, but it was still there nonetheless, because it symbolized what they were all there for. The attack had only killed some of them. They were still there, and they would live on.

Ground Zero was there to remind them.

America finally let a few more tears fall, for his former citizens. He would never forget, he realized that now. But it was for a different reason than he thought. He would still always remember.

England layed a hand on his shoulder, flinching for a second as he had almost gotten lost in the memories again. Then he smiled.

That didn't mean he didn't have to heal.

* * *

9/11 Poem

* * *

Pain, deep within.  
Scars, forever written.  
Our question, why?

* * *

At first flock,  
the world in shock.

Second brings pain,  
nationally gained.

Screaming greets the third,  
people flocking like birds.

And true heros are sought,  
when comes the fourth.

After the day goes by  
and then,  
the Twins have met  
their drastic end,  
the pentagon lies  
crumpled in the dust,  
a field set to flames,  
mourning a must.

We were shot down,  
we stood back up.  
Precoutionarily,  
we look up.  
We never thought  
this is how it would get.  
But one things for sure,  
We will never forget.

* * *

Pain, deep within.  
Scars, forever written.  
Our question, why?

...We never found out.

* * *

**Please tell me if I did well, or if I sucked. Constructive criticism is appreciated.**

**Review if this means something to you.**

**EDIT: Fixed all spelling errors. Sorry for any inconvienionce.**


End file.
